Stolen Moment
Sarah felt overdressed.
Dean Whiting's secretary had assured her that the Dean's annual Christmas party was a semi-formal event when she had passed along the 'invitation', but most of the other women present had opted for sweater sets and knee length skirts. Shimmering in midnight blue and silver satin, Sarah felt like something that should be dangling from a branch on the ten foot spruce in the corner.
After a few rounds of nodding and smiling her way through the throng of unfamiliar faces, she had finally wedged herself between the baby grand piano and a large piece of modern art and worked on being inconspicuous. She indulged in a casual glance at her watch and saw that it was finally getting on towards midnight and felt a little too relieved that her glamorous night of hobnobbing was coming to an end.
She knew she should have been grateful to have been included, even if the invitation had been issued as more of an edict than an actual request, but she would have much preferred to spend the evening in her own apartment armed with fleece pajamas and cable reruns of "It's A Wonderful Life". That the dean not only knew her name but was also aware that she was staying in town for Christmas was flattering and she knew she should have felt honored to have been invited into his home, but mostly it just rubbed in the fact that she wasn't spending Christmas with her family.
She could I have gone home, she supposed. She had certainly debated it, especially after Toby's rather outspoken displeasure at not having her there, but the bank account was looking a little anemic as it was and she had to be back at work in four days anyway. It just hadn't seemed practical at the time.
Right now, however, feeling as awkward and out of place as she ever had, she was beginning to think that practicality was an overrated virtue.
Sarah blinked and nearly went cross-eyed as a hand appeared suddenly in her field of vision, a coin pinched between the thumb and forefinger.
"Nickel for your thoughts."
She turned to see a vaguely familiar guy smiling at her from the other side of the oddly shaped sculpture. "A nickel?" she asked. "Why a nickel?"
"Inflation," he replied with a wink. He withdrew his hand and stepped around the statue. "Derek Jacobs," he said, holding out a hand. "We were in Critical Theory with Professor Kates last year."
She transferred her wine glass to her other hand and shook Derek's hand. "Right, right, I remember. You and Kates argued about what cultural movement marked the onset of modern literature for like an entire class period one time."
"Yeah, that was me," he said with a chuckle. "I'd like to say I was terribly learned on the subject, but mostly I just get antagonistic when I'm bored." He took a sip of wine. "So, Professor Childress tells me that you started working with her on your thesis this year. What did you end up choosing as your topic?"
"I swear it will bore you to tears, but I'm focusing on characterization of the female protagonist in modern fantasy literature. It's still in the early stages of course, but Childress is helping me get my research organized and…" she trailed off, noting the glazed expression on Derek's face. "Sorry," she gave a self-conscious laugh, "I told you it was boring."
His expression didn't change.
"Well you don't have to…" she trailed off again puzzled, and then on a hunch, reached out and snapped her fingers in front of his face.
No reaction.
She sighed and turned to survey the rest of the, now silent, room. As she suspected, there was no movement from any of the dozens of people in the room. They were all frozen in place – heads thrown back in laughter, gestures and facial expressions stopped in awkward and unflattering positions, even a carelessly tipped wineglass in mid-spill, its crimson contents suspended mere inches from the expensive ivory cashmere sweater worn by the dean's wife.
Sarah shook her head in exasperation and crossed the room, snagging a stack of napkins on her way. She stopped long enough to sop up the airborne wine, "You're welcome," she said to the immobile figure of Mrs. Whiting, and then broadened her search to the rest of the house.
Unsurprisingly, she found him in the library.
He was bent over the free-standing chess board in the center of the room, brow creased in thought. "Mate in six," he said finally, and then turned to face her. Gratifyingly, his eyes widened in appreciation when he caught sight of her, "You look stunning tonight, Sarah."
"Thanks, Jareth," she said with a wry smile. "Did you really have to crash the party just to tell me that?"
"Crash?" he said, puzzled. "I have crashed nothing. I…" he stopped and narrowed his gaze, "This is another of your modern euphemisms, isn't it?"
"Got it in one," Sarah said, tapping the end of her nose. "So tell me, Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"It's Christmas, isn't it?" he said. "I understand this is an important holiday in your world, one to be spent with family and friends, not alone in a strange place."
She laughed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I am hardly alone." She gestured toward the quartet of English Department faculty, frozen in earnest discussion by the entryway.
Jareth gave her an inscrutable look. "You don't have to be the only one in the room to be alone, Sarah."
"I take your point," she said, imagining, for a moment, what centuries with only goblins for company must have been like. "Still, it's not so bad. I got to come to this fancy shindig and hobnob with some important people. I think the governor is actually here somewhere." She shrugged, "I miss my parents and Toby of course, but I'll see them in February when I have some time off."
He nodded thoughtfully, "And I am sure that the company of…these people, more than makes up for your inability to be home in the bosom of your family for the holidays." He raised a slanted eyebrow and gave her a dubious look.
She laughed. "Again, I take your point, but I have to be at work again in four days anyway. I'd hardly have had time to get over the jet lag before it would've been time to head home again." She shrugged, "And so I am dabbling in pragmatism and coping with the idea that I can't have everything I want."
"You could, you know…" he began.
She held up a warning finger. "Don't start with that again. I told you I'm going to need some time. You don't just announce to someone that you've decided they'd make a good queen and expect them to say 'goody' and run off to pack their bags."
Jareth gave her a look that, for him anyway, passed for chastised.
"And for the record, that also goes for 'fear me, love me and do as I say' as a pick up line. Awful, just awful." Sarah shook her head, but smiled. "I mean Ireally/I, Jareth."
He shrugged, unruffled. "In nearly two thousand years of existence, the refinements of courtship had never before been necessary. I am…learning."
"Yes, so I heard," Sarah said with a grin. "I spoke to Hoggle and Sir Didymus the other day. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were trying to talk you up. You're not bribing them are you?"
"I would do no such thing," he said looking mildly affronted.
"Threatening?"
He smiled then, flashing pointed incisors. "Well that is something I would do, but no, I am not doing that either."
"Well then I guess you must be winning them over with your charming personality."
Jareth tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze. "I can't decide if you are being flattering or condescending."
Sarah laughed. "Probably a little bit of both. You're a lot of fun to tease." He sketched a small bow and her lips curled into a smile. "It is good to see you, Jareth."
"And you, my lady," he replied softly. He held her gaze for a long moment and then went on, "Now I suppose I should be wishing you a Merry Christmas and letting you get back to your party."
She sighed, "Well the sooner you get things moving again, the sooner midnight rolls around and I can go home."
Jareth indicated the frozen grandfather clock on the far wall with an elegant turn of a gloved hand, "It was midnight when I arrived. It's Christmas day now."
"Oh thank goodness!" she said, drooping in relief. "I thought this night was never going to end!" She did a quick check to make sure her keys were in her bag. "Give me a second to get back into place so Derek doesn't have a heart attack and then do your thing." She started to leave and then stopped in the doorway and turned back. "Merry Christmas, Jareth. Thanks for coming by. It really meant a lot to see a friend tonight."
He inclined his head in acknowledgement and she turned once more to leave.
"Sarah," Jareth called after her.
The odd tone to his voice made her turn and then startle backwards at his unexpected proximity. He had bridged the distance between them in a blink.
"Jareth, what…"
His lips curled into a sly smile. Without a word, he tilted his head to the side and looked up to the clump of mistletoe hanging directly above them.
Sarah snorted in disbelief. "There is no way that was already up there."
"Surely you are not suggesting that I put it there myself?"
"That is exactly what I am suggesting, Your Majesty," Sarah said, crossing her arms and giving him a pointed look.
Jareth put a hand to his chest, "You wound me, Sarah. Have you so little faith in my honorable intentions?"
"Yes," she said shortly, but she was smiling.
"Well regardless," he replied airily, "here we are and here is mistletoe. Who are we to risk the repercussions?"
"I'm pretty sure there aren't any repercussions associated with not kissing someone under the mistletoe, Jareth," she replied, but did not move away as he closed the remaining distance between them.
"Why chance it?" he said. And then he kissed her.
She wasn't sure what she had expected, but soft and gentle were somehow completely unexpected. His lips were warm and pliant on hers and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her close. Perhaps even more strangely, she realized that she had, without thinking, not only put her arms around him, but she was also kissing him back.
'Well that's strange.' she thought and then he traced her lower lip with his tongue and she stopped thinking altogether for several minutes.
When they finally broke apart, it was only just. She took a deep breath and he smiled wickedly, his oddly matched eyes sparkling. "I said I would give you time, Sarah," he said. "And I will. But not forever. I am not a patient man."
Sarah nodded, dumbly, feeling more than just a little off kilter.
"Merry Christmas, Sarah," he said and took a step back, releasing her finally. "I'll see you in four days." And then he was gone.
"Four days?" she said to the empty room. "Why four…oh."
"Sarah, you're home!" a pajama-clad Toby cried from the upstairs landing. He flew down the stairs and crashed into her befuddled arms, nearly knocking both of them into the grandfather clock by the front door of her parent's house.
He hugged her as tight as his skinny little boy arms could manage. "I'm so glad you came! I didn't think you were coming home for Christmas!"
"Me neither, Tobes," Sarah said, hugging him back. And then she laughed out loud.
"What's so funny, sis?"
"I'm pretty sure Derek Jacobs is going to think he's lost his mind."
The End
A/N: No, I didn't suddenly get the complusion to write about winter because it's the middle of summer. This was my contribution to Winterfest back in - wait for it - DECEMBER. That is how far behind I am on life right now. Sheesh...